


From a Half-Hour's Acquaintance

by Measured_Words



Category: Return to Night - Mary Renault
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Camping, F/F, Feminism, Sweden - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words
Summary: "At one of them, she got an invitation to spend the rest of the time camping a deux: it came, blossoming out of an acquaintanceship half an hour old, from a cheerful young Viking with wide blue eyes and a sense of humour like sweet champagne."Hilary meets the New Woman, but she has some very old ideas.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naraht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naraht/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this! It is a bit of a twist on one of your prompts, which hopefully turned out. Thank you Nary and Lilliburlero for beta work!

Stendhal was a junior doctor at the Kongliga Carolinska Medico Chirurgiska Institutet, or the Royal Caroline Medical Surgery Institute, as she translated the name for Doctor Hilary Mansell. Hilary was on holiday in Stockholm and, having taken notice of the building on her visit to the town hall, had decided to call in to the historic hospital on the chance that someone might be available to speak to her, or indulge her with a brief tour. She had allowed the language barrier to slightly misrepresent her – having told them she had been at the Clyde Summers with Dr. Sanderson previously, and the woman with whom she'd spoken understanding the circumstances somewhat differently, they had made arrangements. And so, the statuesque Doctor Stendhal, with dark hair, wide blue eyes, an easy smile, and charmingly accented English, was there to meet her at the institute's main building on the Norr Mälarstrand, looking out over the riddarfjärden. 

"Please," said Doctor Stendhal, smiling, "Call me Nora. And I am happy to show you around. I am afraid our newest buildings are still being constructed in Solna, though the new Radiology facilities have just opened. If you'd come five years from now, I could have shown you the most cutting edge teaching hospital in the world, but instead mostly I can show you all of the things we're replacing. I do think the area is more beautiful than the Solna campus, if you care for the modern styles."

The Institute, Stendhal explained, had been founded in 1810, and the current building erected in 1866. It looked somewhat out of place in the quarter now, with a row of tall functionalist flats encroaching from the west end of the island. The town hall next door, though it was itself a relatively new construction, tended towards a more romantic style, but the effect was to make the medical facility's façade seem almost historic in comparison. 

"It's charming," Hilary replied politely. "The view is lovely, though I admit I'm much more interested in the research than the architecture."

"Of course, that's why we are all here. Would you like to see the library? The theater wing? I can't keep track of all of the ongoing studies, but I know some good stories. You know the type – medical students must be the same in England."

Hilary smiled, thinking of her time in residence, and the grim humour of her colleagues. It was somehow difficult to think of this woman participating in the same, but she found herself open to being proven wrong. Nora Stendhal seemed too cheerful, too practical, to indulge in the kind of pranks involving abuse of bodily parts and fluids that had been typical of her own experience, but then who might have believed it of her, either? She tried to imagine Mrs. Clare's face, for instance, if Hilary ever told her all the inappropriate places the human skull in her possession had wound up in its time. "I'm sure they must be – it's like little boys throwing slugs and spiders at little girls to make them shriek, isn't it?"

Stendhal smiled, ushering Hilary inside the building. "Yes – and we must show ourselves the worst of them, mustn't we, to be valued the same as the most squeamish of their lot."

"I suppose so," Hilary replied, considering the necessity of the rite of passage, and wondering about the experience of this other woman. "I'm curious now – are female doctors common in Sweden?"

"Not so much as they could be, but we are growing. Now that we have Doctor Svarts on staff here, our first female professor, the first woman in a government position, it seems like more doors are opening. But a female neurosurgeon – it's uncommon anywhere, I think. I admit that's why I volunteered to tour you around."

Hilary was not used to thinking of herself as exceptional, and certainly her current practice, with its ties to the cottage hospital, did not permit her to feel it often. She flashed a polite smile. "I was lucky in my placement, that was all. I've moved on since then, I'm sorry if there was some confusion."

Stendhal's smile slackened briefly. "Even if it was luck, it was rare luck. But you never said what all you might like to see, and I am pleased to show around a fellow woman of the profession regardless."

Stendhal proved an excellent guide. She was well familiar with the institute's history and willing to share sufficient insider knowledge to liven up some of the duller details. In some instances, she was more passionate, and this drew out a tendency towards expansive gestures. One wall of portraits of past graduates drew a grand sweep of her arm – she was tall and broad shouldered, and the confidence of the gesture evoked for Hilary the image of her leaping from the prow of a longship, indicating to her crew of raiders the riches of the land for them to plunder. It was absurd, but Hilary could not displace it from her mind once it presented itself. A Viking she was, and try as she might, Hilary couldn’t twist the image of the cheerful doctor back into place. She smiled to herself and shook her head, but Stendhal noticed.

"What is it? I know that you had your first licensed female doctor somewhat earlier, but I assure you, I take Karolina Widerström very seriously. She did so much to open up the profession here, and to promote sexual education and women's health. I feel she was very important, taking the first steps to give us control over our own bodies. It's something I'd like to follow through on, if I can."

Hilary shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. Stendhal had restrained herself – voice calm, one hand clasping the other – but her intensity could not be fully masked. Hilary had encountered this attitude before, of being unable to divorce successful women from their sex, and even glorifying them for it. She'd always preferred to be judged simply on her own merit, though after David, she wondered whether it was at all possible. His accusation of feminism still stung, though faced with a clearer case than her own, she wasn't entirely sure why. "It wasn't that, just something else that came to mind. Please, go on."

"No, I apologize." Stendhal turned, leading Hilary away from the wall. "I should be more careful in my assumptions. But you've come to Sweden on holiday, yes? Have you seen more than Stockholm?"

The change of topic was welcome, and Hilary relaxed. "I travelled up the coast by train, and I've been in the city a few days – there's quite a lot to see here, but I haven't made any firm plans for the rest of my time."

"You should visit the countryside, if you can find someone to take you. Our country is so beautiful…" She hesitated, giving Hilary a sidelong glance, some nervous colour showing in her cheeks. "I have some leave this weekend, and I had been planning to get out of the city myself. If you would like, I could take you camping? I know some very nice places a little further south."

Hilary was taken by surprise. "It sounds charming, though I'm not sure I came equipped." And she hadn't. It was not the sort of thing one did alone in a foreign country, and she hadn't presumed to find a female travelling companion so easily. She'd scarcely known Doctor Stendhal half an hour, and her opinion was not fully formed. Nora was charming and intelligent, but very intense, and with a hint of naivety that clearly showed that her student days were not too far behind her. It could be a pleasant weekend, or it could be a disaster.

"Oh, of course! Though I think I could sort you out. I have some extra equipment, or I could borrow some from friends." She smiled, looking more embarrassed. "I hope you don't find my offer too forward – but please consider it. For now, I can show you around some more. Would you care to see our teaching collection? Some of the donations have some very amusing stories…"

Hilary agreed, and after another half hour of more pleasant interaction, she agreed to the camping trip as well. It seemed a shame to miss out on the opportunity, and she was warming to Stendhal's – Nora's – quirks of personality. They made arrangements to meet at the train station on Friday morning, to catch the train to Mölnbo. From there, it was a short hike to lake Lilla Horssjön. They could stay there the whole time if they chose, or continue on for the next two days with some more strenuous hiking if Hilary felt up to it. A little over ten kilometers per day sounded daunting, but perhaps it would be invigorating.

After speaking to the concierge at her hotel, Hilary was even more enthused about the prospect. He heavily endorsed the suggested location as one of Sweden's most beautiful and diverse areas and it turned out that the hotel had some equipment that she could borrow, including a sleeping bag and roll and a knapsack to haul it while hiking. She wound up purchasing a heavier wool jumper, concerned she would find the evenings too chilly, and a sturdy pair of hiking boots which she did her best to break in over the following days. The weather was predicted to be ideal for the excursion, and she was relieved. The first few days of her holiday had been somewhat dreary and she'd feared a repeat.

Nora was waiting for her at the station on the Friday with a thermos of coffee and some pastries, which she insisted were a Swedish tradition. She was dressed for their adventure, and the look did little to change the impression Hilary had formed of the tall young woman with her fierce blue eyes. She was a warrior, for certain, though the blades she might wield were much smaller than a sword, and her cuts more precise. Hilary wondered what she might think if Nora had been a man, envisioning her with the sculpted body of the dark-haired head case she'd sent up to Sanderson a few weeks before. This intimate camping trip would have had quite a different connotation in that case, but this was not a notion worth pursuing. She didn't consider herself to be the type to indulge in flings. 

The train was not full, and they managed to find seats facing each other across a table with no other passengers joining them. This relative privacy, along with the coffee and pastries, gave them leave for less guarded conversation. Nora was forthcoming about what to expect, describing the lake and its environs in sufficient detail to prompt Hilary to inquire further about her previous experiences. Nora ducked her head, laughing nervously as if the question where embarrassing or unexpected in some way.

"I’d gone a few times with friends from school, but I've started visiting on my own since then. There are other places I could have taken you, I suppose, but it is…one of my favourites, and maybe easier to access."

Hilary immediately had the sense that there was something more to the story – a doctor's instinct, she told herself. Patients did not always like to admit their more embarrassing problems, though in this case Hilary could be more forgiving. It was probably nothing some than an unfortunate story about a boy from her student days. "Well you've built up quite the expectation," she replied, "but I've yet to be disappointed by your scenery."

Nora smiled. "You won't be. But I've never been to England – I'm sure it has its own beautiful places."

"It does, but I think we've tried harder to tame our beauty. It's more charming than wild, perhaps, in most places. More rolling hills, fields and hedgerows, and woods rather than proper forest." There was something about even the more cultivated areas the train was passing through that felt more primeval to Hilary, and she couldn't write it off as just unfamiliarity. It could have been partly a matter of scale, she considered, thinking of the sprawling waterways that cut their way through Stockholm and the fjords she'd seen from the train.

"Charming, yes – I could see that." Nora ducked her head, taking a careful sip of coffee. "Though I hope we also have sufficient charm, despite our wildness. You'll have to let me know."

"I'm quite charmed, I assure you. I think it's just easier to imagine running into a party of Viking raiders, for instance, than some member of the gentry out for a brisk ride."

Nora laughed at that, her blue eyes sparkling. "Vikings is it? If you're going to play to national types, why not trolls? We Swedes are quite superstitious, you know."

"Trolls?" Hilary had never been the type to indulge in fairy stories, and had no real knowledge of any of the local beliefs in that regard. "Well, you don't seem the type, in any case."

"No. I am a woman of science. But I grew up with the stories, of course. My grandmother still believes – she's the reason I became a doctor." Nora smiled apologetically at Hilary's apparent puzzlement. "I'm sorry, I don't think that came out how I intended. She was a… I don't know what the word would be in English. A healer, a kind of quack, I suppose, though she meant well and I think she did more good than harm. Outside of the cities, it is still common for people to turn to _De kloka_ … the wise ones, for help. Part magic, part medicine. If you will forgive my historical fascination, our first recognized female doctor was Lovisa Åhrberg, and she was the same. But she learned real medicine from watching men, working with doctors. She was never licenced, never went to school. But she was a doctor, and a surgeon nonetheless, and she was respected and successful. I had heard of her, and I could see from my grandmother's practices where the line was drawn between science and superstition. And I thought – I can do that. I wanted to. To help people, of course, and because I liked it… and because it seemed important, since women have always been healers, not to let men tell us that we don't belong."

Hilary listened with patient interest, but her foremost thought was that David would surely laugh in this woman's face. It rankled, and she couldn't say why. Perhaps it was just a rejection of him, of her life with him, of the dissatisfaction she had denied and endured. But even if her own bitterness could be dismissed as an indulgence of feminine weakness, Nora did not strike her as weak. She spoke with conviction, she carried with herself with energy and intensity. "It seems an admirable intention, and you seem to have followed through. A place as a junior doctor at the Caroline Institute is a quite impressive early career."

"Thank you for that." Nora smiled, though the lines on her forehead drew together, and again Hilary could sense there was more to be said on the subject. "I believe we will be arriving in Mölnbo shortly. We should get ready."

The town was small even by the standards of rural England, with little other than some cleared streets and brightly coloured houses peeking out from the trees. There was little to the station itself beyond the platform, just the ticketing counter and a waiting area inside a bare building shell. As the train pulled away leaving the two women alone with their luggage – three days' worth of provisions, clothes, and camping gear – Hilary felt overwhelmed for a moment, but there was no backing out now. Citing greater experience, Nora shouldered the greater burden, securing both the camping stove and the bulk of the provisions to her own pack, leaving Hilary in charge mainly of her own things. The borrowed gear was cumbersome, but it allowed her to preserve some sense of independence. 

They had a map and compass, but Nora relied primarily on her memory to guide them through the fields outside the town to the head of the trail. It had clearly been used by others, and once the markers were pointed out, Hilary was confident she would be able to follow it on her own if there were any need. The trail was as beautiful as promised, with the shade of towering evergreens keeping the forest floor pleasantly cool for walking, if a little damp. Occasionally Nora stopped to reprise her role as a guide, pointing out areas where spring melts had cut interesting channels through the forest floor, blooms of strange fungi, glacial boulders, and other points of interest in the forestscape. A few stories of local lore were on offer to accompany some of these, framed as insights into the Swedish mind. Nora let Hilary set the pace, though it was evident that she could have pushed on further and faster had she wished to. The three-mile hike took them about as many hours, with a few stops for water, rest, sightseeing, and an occasional cigarette.

The lake, Lilla Horssjön, was smaller than Hilary had envisioned. From Nora's details, she'd expected a grand expanse of deep blue water; in reality, it was less than a kilometer at its widest point. She'd also expected more of a beach of some kind, but the lake was ringed with granite, as though it had been carved from the rock. It was still beautiful, with scraggly pines stabbing upwards from the stones, but combined with the darkness of the forest, Hilary felt it was somewhat oppressive. It was easy to imagine how stories of trolls could have arisen in a place like this. There was a shelter, as Nora had promised, and a ring of stones where previous campers had set their fires. Nora had set her pack down and turned to Hilary with an expectant, hopeful look.

"It's very stark," Hilary said, setting down her own pack, "but you're right about the water – it's so blue." They were a little way above it still, but there was a path down to the water's edge. Hilary walked down towards it, dried pine needles crunching softly under her feet. She tried to imagine coming here alone, wondering whether she'd have the nerve, thinking about how dark it would be that night. The moon would be waning, but still gibbous, and the lake's surface was so clear that it might just act as a mirror. She wondered about animals, or at least anything larger than the squirrels that chattered at them and the birds that gave occasional calls from their high perches.

"It's fed by a spring as well as meltwater, I think, and very deep. The water is warm near the shore, but if you swim out very far it gets cold quite fast. You can drink it, too, though I like to boil it first, just in case. And there are fish, if you wanted to try and catch some."

That made Hilary laugh, remembering a family trip when she'd been much younger. Her father had tried to show her the basics, but the determination of a particularly feisty trout had undermined all of his lessons. "I haven't been fishing in years, and I'm afraid it was a bit of a disaster. Since then, I've preferred my natural encounters to be more observational."

"Well, there is plenty to see here, at least." Nora smiled, seeming pleased. "Shall we set up our camp, then?"

The shelter was a small three-sided enclosure made of wooden logs, with a raised platform to lay out their sleeping mats and store their packs. The food was left outside, and Nora took charge of securing it from the wildlife. There wasn't anything particularly dangerous, she assured Hilary, but it was better to keep it outside of the sleeping area nonetheless. There wasn’t too much else to do, other than start a fire, but scavenging for firewood helped Hilary feel useful again, and they chatted some more once it was going, sharing innocuous stories about their other travel adventures.

"I've never quite had the nerve to travel outside of Sweden on my own," Nora admitted. "Maybe I've never been properly motivated. I have been to Scotland, though. I went with a friend before I started my medical training. I wanted to time away to examine my decision before I committed… and to sort out some other questions."

Hilary felt as though she'd been given an invitation to pry, but she didn't feel comfortable pursuing it, and nodded instead. "I'm afraid my options for companions are rather limited at the moment, and I thought that with all that's happening in eastern Europe, it wasn't worth putting off." Mrs. Clare came to mind, as someone whose company she enjoyed, but she seemed content in her country cottage and didn't give one a sense that she would delight much in international travel.

"That's a shame. The companions, I mean, though Europe as well. I keep hoping it will settle down, that no one wants to see any escalation, but I don't think I believe it. It seems so far away from here."

Hilary looked out, peering down the path to the water again as she fished a cigarette out of her pack and lit it. "Everything seems far away from here, I expect."

"Yes, that's part of the appeal. I can take myself out of the world, and imagine that beyond what I see, things are different. I can see things how I wish they were, and I can try and keep that vision in my mind when I return. Not for anything so large – but for more personal things, it helps."

Hilary considered what she might visualize, what changes she would want to make in her world, but she'd rather trust fact over fancy. But perhaps that was how Nora managed to maintain her sense of conviction, why she seemed so intense despite her general cheer. Did Vikings ever rely on visualization? That would just be talking up the troops before a fight, wouldn't it? "I suppose any advantage is worth seizing, though I'm not sure it would suit me if I have to go back to living in the world as it is."

"You should try it while we're here - it can't hurt, can it?" Nora was smiling, teasing even. "There must be something you wish was different."

"Certainly…" It was easy to answer without being too personal, though the question did raise some recent raw memories. "That nurses were more diligent, matrons more respectful – even patients, come to that, and their families."

"And what does that look like to you? To be respected, say."

"Oh." Hilary felt as though she'd walked willing into the trap. She couldn't pretend she'd never given it any thought. "To be treated like the expert I am – the same as any male doctor, I suppose."

Nora nodded, prodding at the fire with a long stick, brow furrowed. "That is difficult. I understand the sentiment, but I don't want to be a man, or to be like one, or even treated the same. I can't say I particularly care for the sex at all." She paused, glancing up at Hilary before continuing. "But what does it look like to be a woman, and be respected, or even appreciated as a doctor, or anything else? That is harder to see, sometimes."

Hilary froze for a moment, absorbing the impact of the words. The feminism was blatant this time, but the rest was more surprising, if not unfamiliar. Before David, she'd had to deflect enough rumours about herself to become familiar with the stereotype: women who wanted to make it in a man's world must want to be men, to desire all the same things. That hadn't been her, either, but at the time she'd felt it necessary to withdraw somewhat from female companionship. After David, there'd been no time for it. Now, living alone with Mrs. Clare, she'd sometimes wondered what whispers might travel through the village, though she valued her tentative connection with her landlady sufficiently not to be bothered by her own paranoia. Certainly she'd never consider moving, and in truth the kind of imagination required to spread such stories seemed lacking in Gloucestershire. But she could nevertheless trace ties between spinsterhood and the issues of respect. Her patients could never seem to decide whether they thought she ought to be married, or if it was proper that she remain a spinster rather than a failure of a wife, or whether she ought to be at all. She was still building her reputation at her new practice, and there was often more negotiating and questioning than she felt was proper, even with other women. She'd felt better supported at the Clyde Summers, but she knew people there, and she'd had time to build up a network….

"Hilary?"

She'd not answered, lost in her own thoughts as her cigarette burned away to ash. But now she looked at Nora – she seemed concerned. Nervous, maybe. "I'm sorry. I was thinking about your words." Hilary smiled, nervous herself from not knowing quite what to expect now. "I feel like you've been trying to tell me this all day."

"I thought it was important, but I didn't want to force it. It doesn't matter – or it doesn’t have to. I like talking with you…" She shook her head. "I mean, I don't have any expectations, I just hope you enjoy yourself. "

"I'm sure I will." Hilary meant to reassure, but worried that she sounded dismissive, and wasn't sure what was a comfortable topic to pursue from here. It was a little annoying to have this dumped on her once they were stuck together out in the middle of nowhere, but there was hardly a chance for it to have come up earlier. Without wanting to pry further, it seemed best to simply take Nora at her word, and try and enjoy herself. "You said there are some shorter trails around the lake?"

"Oh. Yes. It might be too late today for most of them, but there is a way to climb up higher for a better view, if you'd like."

"That sounds lovely."

The view was quite stunning, up high above the lake on one of the granite hills. They both had less to say, though Nora made an effort to resume her role as a cheerful guide. Hilary was distracted by her own thoughts, trying to discern from their earlier conversations any signs that might have been given, or received, what her feelings were, and what they meant. She was not put off, at least – she knew men whose proclivities ran that way, and suspected that her own nephew may be among their number. But this was more personal, and also more private than any hinted accusations she'd encountered during her time in medical school. There was no need to deflect attention, no reputation or career at stake. They were alone, cut off from the world, and perhaps they could imagine it to be as they wished. Therein lay the difficulty. Hilary wasn't sure what she wanted. At first she'd thought she could dismiss any suggestion of further intimacy based on her own disinterest, but as she examined her reactions more closely, she was less certain. 

If Nora were a man, it might have been easier to say. Taken on a secluded camping trip on her indulgent vacation by a charming young Viking…. She could well imagine how it might play out. There was much of the masculine that could be attributed to Nora despite her protests. Her stature for one, though her figure was distinctly womanly, her confidence, her certainty, and her aggression, restrained though it was, were all traits that could be seen as admirable in a man. But a man in her position, a junior doctor several years younger than her, would not see in Hilary someone to admire. And in truth, in a man, Hilary would not find them appealing at this juncture. There was appeal in the idea of something different, but was Nora the solution she craved? There was some time left to decide.

After admiring the view, they returned to their camp, and Nora revived the banked fire sufficiently to heat some of the tinned foods they had brought, accompanying some warmed beans with crusty bread and goat cheese followed by a cup of hot coffee. As they worked together, the atmosphere between them relaxed and Hilary felt more comfortable, less out of place in the secluded forest. With a cheery fire blazing the stars and moon to pierce the darkness of the night, it was less oppressive than she had feared. The lake and its shore felt like an opening into the light; a respite from the surrounding gloom. Hilary was still glad of the jumper she'd purchased, as the damp did press in against the warmth of the flames, and she splayed her fingers around her tin cup to warm them.

"This is much more companionable than I'd first feared, I must admit."

"Only at first?" Nora smiled. "I thought I might have put you off earlier. I had been considering whether I ought to offer to sleep beside the fire. We could have turned right back around and left in the morning."

Hilary laughed. "I think I might have be too tired for that, regardless. Walking around your capital has not prepared me as thoroughly as I'd hoped for hiking through your hills."

"Well then we can forget about the longer trail, and relax tomorrow instead. I prefer it here, in any case." 

"It seems like there is still plenty to see and do." Still considering her options, Hilary reddened slightly at the unintended innuendo.

"We don't have to do anything. There are the trails though – one leads down to the shore in a place that is better for bathing. If the sun is out, it can be very nice in the afternoons. Or we can stay here and talk, or read novels, or watch for moose at the lake. Lots of things."

The intense familiarity that Nora had with this remote area was striking. It was lovely, but Sweden must have many such enchanting areas, even so near Stockholm. Something must keep drawing her back. "What's your favourite thing about this pace?"

"Memories." Nora didn't even have to pause to consider. "I had a friend, Kaja. We were supposed to come with some others, but in the end, it was just the two of us and her boyfriend. They had a big fight, once we were here, and he left. After that, it was just us. It was a very special time, even if in the end things did not go as I had hoped. She was afraid, and then she met another boy. This was all before I started medical school. After I did, I would come here to remember, and to try and think of the world as the kind of place where we would not have needed to be afraid."

Hilary knew what could happen in to British men, at least, with homosexual interests. Women might come under less scrutiny, but that was less true when they pushed themselves unapologetically into male-dominated spaces as boldly as Nora had. "I think you're very brave, and maybe very foolish too. You're risking a lot." 

"I think it is a risk that someone needs to take. I'm not afraid for myself, and I know how to play along when I have to. I have Dr. Svarts to support me, and others besides. I want to be like them, like Karolina Widerström, to make this easier for other women. Did you never feel that way at all? As a surgeon, if nothing else. Did you ever consider who might come after you?"

"I don't suppose I ever considered it my responsibility, no." Not all women, surely, had the temperament for medicine, let alone surgery, or neurosurgery. She'd left it behind, and more and more she had to acknowledge that it was because of David. His petty victory had felt so complete that there'd hardly seemed any point. Nora made her feel guilty for that, and it rankled.

"You aren't obliged to them – or to anyone other than yourself. I know – I don't know you, it's silly to say that I admire you, when I can see now that you are unhappy. But you are intelligent, and strong, and independent. And beautiful."

They were seated close together at the fire – not quite side by side – to avoid the smoke from the fire that drifted on the breeze. Nora had turned to her, her face half in shadow, her cheeks red. Her hand slid a little ways towards Hilary. Offering, rather that taking, as a man might; or perhaps considered rather than assuming. As though Hilary was a person, someone who could be admired, rather than a tool to be used or a trophy to be possessed. There was nothing to be gained or lost other than what they chose to put on offer, and Hilary felt touched by the gesture, though it highlighted how careful Nora had been of the most casual platonic contact. "Thank you," she said finally, taking the offered hand and shuffling over to lean against the other woman. 

Nora was soft and solid at once, and warm. She smiled back at Hilary, but said nothing more. Hilary was content to let the conversation drop, and to sit together companionably. They watched the stars travel across the lake until it was late, then climbed together into the shelter to coordinate another form of closeness.

Hilary woke, sore and still tired, to the smell of coffee and frying sausages penetrating the piney air. Nora, her dark hair loosely braided, looked up from across the fire and smiled. She seemed refreshed and cheerful, which Hilary considered to be grossly unfair, even if she had the consideration to prepare breakfast.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning." Hilary stretched, hoping to loosen some of the tightness in her muscles. "That smells wonderful."

"I thought about staying with you, but I didn't want to disturb you with my restlessness, so I thought I would do something useful instead. How did you sleep?"

"Poorly, I'm afraid." She sat up, shivering somewhat in the damp air as she dressed quickly. "Unfamiliarity, I suppose – every little sound in the night startled me awake."

"I hope tonight will be better, then." Nora hesitated, no doubt weighing the statement. "We can take a quiet day, without roaming too far."

Hilary nodded. "Yes, I'd like to see this bathing area you spoke of, if it does warm up a bit." The sun was out, and the prospects for a hotter day seemed good. Another night, however… The hours lost to sleep had made room for thought, and Hilary had already determine that they should leave the next day, once she was more rested. Hilary had no regrets – Nora had opened doors for her that she had not allowed herself to consider before. The touch of another woman had been more satisfying that she'd ever imagined, but she was less sure, pleasant as her company was, that Nora was quite who she longed for. She was too challenging, perhaps, or too assertive: Hilary did not want a warrior after all. For now, she climbed out of the shelter to sit by the fire, intent on enjoying the rest of her holiday. She accepted a cup of coffee, thinking of a thermos tucked left on the passenger seat of her car. It was true after all, she considered as she took a sip, that sometimes going away was required to make one appreciate what could be found closer to home.

**Author's Note:**

> (everything is really about Lisa)


End file.
